


Loimu & Kuura

by WildKitte



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dragons, F/F, Fantasy, Historical References, Implied Relationships, Magic, Minor Violence, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Mythology, based loosely on finnish folklore, ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 06:19:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12742719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildKitte/pseuds/WildKitte
Summary: Original fantasy storyLoimu and Kuura's life was relatively peaceful until they encountered The Witch. As a result, Kuura's soul was bound into a weapon, and so Loimu started her quest for revenge and breaking the curse. The Witch is not the only obstacle in their way, for weird things are happening and the ways of the old surface once more.





	Loimu & Kuura

**Author's Note:**

> **Loimu** \- blaze of fire [LOI-MU]  
>  **Kuura** \- frost (kuurankukka means frost flowers) [KOO-RA}  
>  **Halla** \- frost that creeps over the land overnight [HA-L-LA, emphasis on double consonant]
> 
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/narxu/playlist/3veq5SCz4kTimGB7I30rvA)

  


She arrived on a cold winter morning.

Frostbite nibbling at her crimson cheeks she brought her sleigh to a halt - the sled dogs barked, trotting forward and finally stopping at the gate. A guard peeked over the wall.

“My name is Loimu,” the woman yelled at the looming figure leaning over, peering down at her. “I'm for the dragon business.”

The guard sized her up, her flaming red hair, a short woman wrapped in multiple layers of clothing and fur, and then disappeared out of sight. Muffled shouts carried through the thick wooden fortified fence and after a moment the gates opened and Loimu steered her dogs and sleigh into the village.

  


The village was small and had one main road that lead directly to a large house - Loimu assumed it to be the residence of the village chief. The main road splintered into narrow alleyways between houses, shops and workshops, and the tenants were gathering between the houses, curiously peering at the newcomer. Loimu didn't spare them a look, she had no business with them for now, but she noted that most of the villagers seemed to be women, most in some kind of uniform or work attire, and a couple men playing with children, or tugging them inside their humble huts.

  


The village chief was waiting for her at the porch of her house. It was a regular, if slightly bigger, log house with forest animals carved to the window frames, the front door and the roof. Loimu halted her sleigh in the opening and whistled for her dogs to sit and wait as she walked up to the chief.

The chief was a big and sturdy woman, cheeks weather-beaten and her eyes hard and stern, but there was a warm glint in her expression.

”Welcome,” she greeted her with a nod of her head. ”We have been waiting for you.”

”Sorry for the delay,” Loimu apologised. ”The snowstorm slowed us down.”

The chief nodded and waved her further.

  


Stepping in the house Loimu paid attention to the animal skins on the walls – reindeer and elk hides, and a handsome pair of elk antlers. Worthy hunting trophies, Loimu thought – hunting down an elk took skill. The reindeer hide seemed to be imported, reindeer weren't usually found around here.

The fire crackled and snapped in the fireplace, subtle scent of birch and smoke in the main room. There was a long dining table with the tableware already set in place and in the middle sat a big pot of stew.

”Come, dine with us,” the chief said – the ”us” referring to Loimu, herself and a couple older women, faces worn with age. Loimu sat down hesitantly next to the chief at the end of the table; no one seemed to call her out on it and immediately set to scooping food for themselves from the pot. It was simple, chunks of elk meat, swedes, turnip and carrots.

  


Loimu chewed on her food quietly for a while, mulling over in her thoughts what she had seen in the village. The villagers seemed healthy and well-fed for the most part. There weren't many children and she had only seen a couple of men, but in these parts of the land that wasn't exactly uncommon. She munched the overly salted meat and swallowed.

”So,” she said into the silence and all heads around the table raised to look at her. She couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious, so she cleared her throat and hoped that the others wouldn't notice her hesitation. ”You called me here for the dragon business.”

The village chief shot a look at the old woman nearest to her and set her spoon down.

”I guess we haven't properly introduced ourselves. My name is Armi and this are my council. Welcome to our humble village.”

”Seela,” the old woman next to Armi offered her name. Her hair was strikingly white, and her face was marred with deep wrinkles and scars. ”I am the eldest of this council. These are my sisters, Aino and Saimi,” she gestured at the two women sat next to Loimu. ”And she's Veera.” The last woman was hunched over her bowl, her spindly fingers shaking as they held the spoon. She didn't seem to be related to anyone in the table, and sat further away from the others, right at the end of the table. Seela glanced quickly at Armi again, waiting for her to speak.

”We've recently had trouble with a winter dragon,” Armi said curtly.

  


Loimu froze for a second and her hand fumbled to rest on the small sheathed axe resting on her hip.

”No one said anything about a Great Dragon being involved,” she said, schooling her voice into apathy even though she could feel her fingers trembling – with fear, with excitement, she couldn't tell.

”We...” Seela started, and then paused. The old woman seemed almost sheepish. ”We thought that no one would take the job if they knew.”

”We'll compensate it for you,” Armi reassured, even though they all knew that wasn't the point.

  


Loimu pretended to think about it.

”Tell me about this dragon,” she said.

”We think it's from the West,” Veera, the woman at the end of the table piped up. ”It's a grown one, arrived here about three weeks ago.” Loimu looked at her – she looked significantly younger than the other women of the council, her wrinkles not as deep and worn with sorrows and worries as the others'.

”So why is it bothering you?” Loimu asked. ”It could be just passing. If so, we'd better leave it alone.”

”It's scaring animals,” Armi explained. ”We don't keep cattle, because we can hunt the meat we need. But now the animals are avoiding the village.” _As they should_ , Loimu thought.

”And it's keeping the spring away,” Veera added. ”It shouldn't be this cold at this time of the year. Usually at least the lakes should have melted by now.”

Loimu hadn't really noticed that. She had travelled down from north, where the winter would still go on for another month. Still, it was sloppy of her not to have noticed.

”Everyone seems very healthy,” she noted.

”We have food in storage for another month,” Armi said. ”But now that the harvest season is shorter, I don't know if we'll have enough for next year. Crops planted over the winter will die, and we'll be in trouble once summer comes.”

  


Loimu nodded.

”Alright,” she said. ”I'll do it.” She then shoveled another bite stew in her mouth.

”We're glad to hear,” Seela said, evidently relieved.

”I won't kill it, though,” Loimu continued. ”Too much work. I don't like killing them.”

Armi frowned.

”Well, if you think chasing it away will suffice, I'll trust your word. You're the professional here,” she said reluctantly. Loimu glanced at Veera, who was observing her with sharp eyes. _Not the only one_ , she thought, but kept it to herself.

  


Loimu was glad to find that her dogs had been freed and fed while she was dining with the chief and the council. She assured the man, who had taken care of her pack, that the dogs would be perfectly alright sleeping outside, but the man insisted that they’d give them a separate shed to sleep in.

She lay in the dark bedroom that had been prepared for her in the chief's house. Loimu stared at the ceiling, her axe resting on her chest as she ran her fingers over the engravings, following the frost flowers with her fingertips.

”Kuura,” she called quietly.

For a moment everything was still and then, like an echo, she heard it:

_I'm here_.

Loimu smiled.

”I take it you heard the conversation,” she said. She closed her eyes as Kuura spoke to her, listening to the low lilts of her voice, the melodic rhythm of her speech.

_I did. They're an interesting bunch, those hags._

”What do you think brought it here?”

_The dragon?_ Loimu could almost imagine her contemplative head tilt, how she would fondle her long black hair between her fingers. _Someone might've summoned it on purpose. Or accidentally lured it here._

Loimu pondered on this. She shifted to her side and cradled the axe in her arms. The rough bedsheets rustled in the quiet of the night.

”Veera did seem to be very informed of her dragons.”

_She did_ , Kuura answered drily, _but so are we_.

  


*

  


The evening sun painted the snowy forest into an ocean of purples and oranges.

The villagers gave her gifts. She didn't need them, as the mission wouldn’t probably take that long, but took them anyway – firewood, some food, good luck charms carved out of wood. Loimu thanked them heartily, but the words rang a bit hollow in her ears as the village elders watched her pack her sleigh again. Armi, with her arms crossed, seemed fidgety.

”I'm sorry to bother you with this,” she said one last time. ”I can't press how thankful we are.”

_This is getting embarrassing_ , Kuura grumbled. Loimu made a conscious effort not to react to her words.

”I'll be back sometime tomorrow,” she said instead.

”We'll keep a guard at the gate,” Armi reassured her.

Loimu nodded, and was about to hop on her sleigh, when suddenly Veera piped up:

”It's probably not hungry. It seemed to have its stomach full when it came. Take care.”

Loimu paused, looking over the small, seemingly bland woman, who stood a little afar from the others. Her eyes, however, were sharp and intelligent and Loimu felt shivers running down her spine. Maybe it was the cold wind that picked up. She tightened her belt and secured her axe once more.

”Alright.”

  


She had been told to follow the path of the lumberjacks – it was a small forest road built for sleighs and carrying timber, wide enough for her and her sleigh. The ground was still trampled by hoofprints and the forest was dappled with empty spaces where wood had been logged. The sleigh dogs jogged in the snow crisp from the freezing air and the mighty pines and spruces were covered in white, like a wedding veil out of ice.

The pathway narrowed down, the forest closing them in, until Loimu pulled the sleigh to a halt.

”We'll leave a camp here,” she said, more to herself than anyone listening. The leading dog of her pack sat down and scratched its ear. Loimu took that as an agreement.

The air was dry, and chilly, but the temperature was freezing as the sun slowly crept beneath the horizon. Loimu let the dogs run free, all eight of them, and set up the tent. She would feed the dogs later and for now they could eat snow to keep hydrated. Right now her main concern was to start the fire before it got really dark.

  


Kuura was quiet the entire time she built up the camp and the fire. She had her quiet moments, but usually a whisper of something, a soft touch, would poke at Loimu's consciousness every now and then, like a reminder that she was still there by her side. Now she was silent, no fleeting touches or even a hum at the back of her mind.

”You aren't sleeping, are you?” Loimu asked as she poked at the fire with a stick, hoping it wouldn't dwindle out. The wood was cracking and snapping, the flame was licking at the bark, its blaze almost white in the twilight. It would suffice to keep the pack warm until they, Loimu and Kuura, returned.

_No_ , came the answer. _Just thinking. About this whole dragon thing._

”Do you want to go back? We don't have to do this, you know.”

_It's fine. We promised them. We have to at least try_.

There was a pause, and Loimu threw another log in the fire.

_I was just thinking... If this is one of the great dragons... Could it be connected to the witch?_

Loimu hummed.

”It's entirely possible.”

_You're excited_.

”If I get to bury your blade into her heart, I'll be more than satisfied.”

_We don't know if that's how the curse is broken_.

”So we'll kindly ask first and then stab her.”

_Loimu_ , Kuura scolded her, and Loimu could almost imagine her there, sitting beside her and freezing her butt off in the snow.

”It's not like _you_ don't hold a grudge against her, too,” Loimu said flippantly.

_But unlike you, I'm not stupid about it_ , Kuura snapped back. Loimu sighed. It was pointless to argue over this.

”We need to find the dragon first,” she said then. ”If it's willing to talk, we can ask. If it still _can_ talk. It’s entirely possible the dragon will be too feral to understand speech. It has been been lost for quite a while.”

_Hm_ , Kuura hummed back. _We should get going_.

”Sure.”

  


Loimu whistled and the dogs gathered around, slithering into the tent and curling up there.

”Wait there,” she ordered curtly. The dogs howled a little in return, all eight of them tapping their fluffy tails against the tent floor. Loimu smiled.

She took Kuura out of her belt, and held the axe over the fire.

” _Tikari_ ,” Loimu said, and the axe turned into a sturdy dagger with a thick wooden handle wrapped in leather, the blade shining in the light as frozen flowers slithered across the blade, the magic bleeding into the sharp edges. Loimu breathed out slowly as the words tore at her energy and it seeped into the blade.

_Let's go_ , Kuura said then. Loimu nodded, swallowing and trying to even her breath.

It was time to follow the trees.

  


Once in the forest, it was easy to find a dragon.

Forests did not like dragons. Dragons liked to gnaw on their bark, sink their teeth into the trunk and lap out the resin, leaving the trees to wither and die as the lizard moved on. The dragons scared away animals, they trampled the ground and where they had been the forest resigned quiet and dark for decades, until the trees rotted away and mushrooms and moss covered everything.

So when there was a dragon, the forest complained. It knarred and sighed, the trees drooping heavily, swaying sluggishly, seeming as if they could fall down any minute on the occasional trespasser on the countless labyrinthine pathways.

  


Loimu didn't look up at the trees even if she felt the itch, the occasional fear grabbing at her stomach as the treetops swooped downwards with the passing wind. Instead she kept looking ahead, straining her ears for any sound as she trekked through the thick, knee-deep snow. It was damp, and stuck to the furred parts of her boots in lumps. The wind was howling cold in her ears and it was starting to get dark, as the last hues of orange were overtaken by purples in the sky above.

_Marks on the trees_ , whispered Kuura in her mind. _There must be tracks nearby too_.

”Can you hear it?” Loimu whispered back.

_No,_ Kuura said. _But the trees are hostile_.

That was enough of a clue.

  
  
  


It did not take long to find marks of the dragon – only a few feet away they found a trampled scene, the ground blackened with the dragon's huge pawprints. And soon they could hear it.

It was like the thundering of ice-covered sea in the spring, rumbling and cracking. Loimu tightened her grip on Kuura's handle.

”It's near,” Loimu muttered.

_It's big_ , Kuura said and Loimu simply nodded.

”A bit of an understatement, that,” she chuckled. She could feel the hot waves of nervous anticipation splashing in her stomach.

She creeped closer towards the sound, trying to muffle her footsteps in the snow. The groaning of the trees grew louder, echoing in the forest, and goosebumps rose across Loimu's skin, shivers running down her spine.

  


There was a wall of spruces surrounding an opening of birches, trickled as if carelessly on what seemed to be a small field of a kind. In the middle stood a long serpent, wrapped around seven trees and gnawing the root of an eighth.

The dragon was huge, white fur adorning its paws and face and the end of its tail, and covered in light scales elsewhere. Its muzzle resembled that of a dog's, and its teeth were razor sharp, the tree trunk between its jaws bleeding sap. Its tail tightened around a thin birch and the tree moaned and knarred, as if in pain.

  


Loimu gripped at Kuura tighter.

_Those white scales_ , Kuura whispered.

”Halla,” Loimu breathed.

  


If ordinary dragons were considered pests, a Great Dragon uninvited was a plague.

They brought with them strong winds and their migration dictated weather and the seasons.

The Great Dragon of the West was going wrong way.

  


The dragon tore its teeth off the tree and raised its head.

” **Human.** ”

Loimu stepped into the opening, letting the dragon see her.

”Dragon,” she said, and the word dribbled from her mouth like a threat. ”I know you, dragon – your name is Halla and you bring winter in the swing of your tail, icy fire in your belly. You are the Great Dragon of the West.” She raised her dagger and took a wide stance, the snow crunching underneath her boots. ”Go back to the west, where you belong. For I am Loimu, and this is my blade Kuura, and she is sharp like the talon of an eagle – and she will eat you up, cover you in her flowers. So flee, you beast,” she said. ”And never return.”

  


The dragon, Halla, licked its lips and then snarled, as if laughing at her.

” **How adorable. A small human and a cursed companion.** ” Its tail swooped across the snow and curled at its feet, swishing like a cat's. With a twist of its hips it lodged itself free from the birches. Snow rustled off the branches like dust. The dragon turned its golden, smoldering eyes to the pair of them and licked its lips again.

_They don't eat people, right?_ Kuura sounded a little nervous.

”Probably not,” Loimu whispered back. ”Hopefully not.”

_I sure hope you're right, it would really suck if you got eaten._

”Your concern for me warms my heart,” Loimu said. ”It'll be fine.”

  


Halla lunged at her, its jaw opened wide, teeth glistening with sap.

Loimu shouted out a spell that echoed like a bell in air, and right as the dragon was about to bite her, it slammed into a barrier that ringed out with a high pitched noise, the point of the collision glistening orange in the waning sunlight. Halla retreated backwards, slithering along the treeline to get behind Loimu. She followed it with her eyes, not letting it get out of her sight and surprise her, but stayed still, feet planted firmly into the snow.

  


_Listen._

Kuura's voice was a soft bell's tingle in her ears, and the frozen flowers grew roots in her hands and the petals crawled up her forearm and bit into bone and marrow. She had a word on her tongue, she had the knowledge and the spell as the coldness seeped into her numbing fingers, Kuura's love burning, freezing her so.

  


As its front disappeared behind her field of vision, its tail swished in the snow and its muscles tensed and it lunged headfirst for her again. Loimu turned, and sank Kuura's sharp tip right into its snout, the dagger tightly wrapped in her hands.

The dragon let out a scream, the ground shook and snow fell from the trees in heavy chunks as Halla cried out its agony. No blood burst out, no crimson colour spilled on the pristine white snow – but its breath fogged and a rush of cold air puffed from its lungs as the blade sank deeper between its flaring nostrils.

”Leave,” Loimu said, simply, her voice rough. The dragon whined in response, its tail thrashing and tossing white glistening flakes up in the air. Loimu bent her wrist and edged the tip a little further. Kuura's icy little flowers spread from the wound into its nose, frozen ornaments adorning the pinkening snout.

  


” _Mene._ ”

The word resonated through Loimu's entire body. Twice, she had used the words of the old, twice in one evening, and she could feel how magic drained her life force from her, how the fire burning in her chest dimmed, and she had to take a steadying side-step before she would collapse.

  


Halla roared and snagged its head back. Blood burst from the wound, falling in fat droplets on the ground and dyeing the snow red. Kuura was still clean.

”Don't return,” Loimu panted, her breath foggy and harsh. ”We don't want to hurt you. Go back to the West.”

The dragon sneezed, more blood splattering on the snow and on Loimu's clothes.

” **Humans,** ” Halla rumbled. It let out a snarl like a laugh. ” **Making empty promises. No wonder she's after you. You're too honest, and careless.** ”

Loimu froze.

”Was it her? The one who sent you here?” Her hands were starting to shake. ”Where is she? Do you know where she is?” Loimu's eyes were burning and Kuura was quiet like the cold winter air.

Halla looked her deep in the eyes.

” **Be careful, child. She's always watching.** ”

Then it crouched, its leg muscles flexing and talons scratching the ground, and jumped in the air. With a couple twists of its long torso it soared into the skies, and as the wind picked up it took to the West.

In its wake, the last rays of sunshine dimmed, and withered into darkness, the sky splattered with constellations.

  


_Well that was fun,_ Kuura said.

Loimu nodded; her legs gave out under her and she sprawled unconscious in the snow.

  


*

  


_A voice, familiar, from afar – no, nearby, no, right above her,_

” _Loimu? Are you alright?”_

_A girl, kneeling above her, long hair sweeping her face like a whisper, dark skin contrasting against the snow's white as she swiped her locks behind her ear and smiled,_

  


_And then, a figure looming between the birches, shadows creeping from its cloak and wrapping the forest in a dark fog, witches always stand between birches, it was her,_

  


” _Loimu,” the girl tried to call out to her, but Loimu was staring at the darkness surrounding them, and a witch’s sharp-toothed smile,_

  


” _Loimu.”_

  


_She couldn't hear, and the witch laughed and the darkness swallowed up the snow, the trees, the girl, her voice still ringing loud even as she sank into the black void,_

  


 

_Loimu!_

 

 

Loimu sat up in a rush. Her head swam and she had to balance herself, the coldness of the ground seeping through her leather gloves.

”Sunlight,” she mumbled, bleary, and squinting her eyes.

Indeed; sunlight.

”It's morning,” she said, a bit dumb, and turned to look to her left, where Kuura lay in her axe form. She reached toward her and the anxious beating of her heart calmed down as she closed her fingers around the handle.

_You can't just pass out like that! You slept through the night, you exhausted yourself,_ Kuura snarled. _You didn't need to use another_ word _, the dragon was about to leave already!_

”I was just making sure,” Loimu said.

_No magic for at least three days, Loimu,_ Kuura warned. _Your recklessness scares me, alright?_

”Yeah, yeah,” Loimu answered. She then grinned. ”But the dragon fighting was fun, right?”

Kuura didn't answer, and that in itself was answer enough.

_At least it wasn't completely pointless._

Loimu laughed.

  


*

  


They found the dogs right about where they had left them, and the dogs welcomed them back with enthusiasm. Like a miracle, the embers were still glowing and it seemed like the pack had been very comfortable in Loimu's tent. They jumped against her and licked her face and Loimu laughed at their enthusiasm. She could sense the amused hum from Kuura through their link.

”Time to go back, hm?” she scratched the leader of the dog pack behind the ears. ”We'll ask for some yummy meat for you.”

_I wonder if they're going to pay with coins or pelts_ , Kuura hummed.

”Let's hope pelts. They can be sold.”

_Or used. You get cold easily._

”Not if I cuddle with these babies,” Loimu nuzzled another dog's snout with her nose.

_Don't come complaining to me when you catch another cold._

”It's spring,” Loimu rolled her eyes. ”What's the worst that could happen?”

_You just have to jinx it, don't you._

  


*

  


In the end, the payment was indeed made in pelts. The elders thanked her abundantly and the villagers packed them a huge pile of pelts in front of their sleigh, as if their gifts hadn’t been enough.

”Stay for a feast,” Armi pleaded her, her broad hands clasped around Loimu's. ”At least until morning. Tomorrow's weather should be clear.”

Loimu hesitated for a second, but the genuine gratitude in the village chief's eyes pulled at her chest.

”Alright,” she admitted and gave the chief a lopsided smile.

”Children, please behave!” Loimu heard Veera calling out as a herd of little brats bundled in winter coats barged at her dogs, sinking their small fingers in the animal fur and laughing brightly as they wrestled in the snow.

”It's alright,” Loimu said. ”Let them be.”

The sight of children playing in the snow with her pack left her feeling warm inside.

_Softie_ , Kuura teased her. Loimu couldn't answer her in front of all these people, so she just nudged the axe with her hand as a little warning, a pointless objection.

Like she could deny it.

“Let’s celebrate then,” Armi smiled, and gestured towards the big house.

 

*

 

The first beams of sunshine woke Loimu up and she groaned. Her head was still heavy from the ale, her vision swimming as she sat up.

”Fuck,” she hissed, holding her head. ”Those women can _drink_.”

_I miss alcohol_ , Kuura sighed. The little axe was resting next to her pillow.

”You weren't old enough when you were turned,” Loimu pointed out, eyes still screwed shut.

_Doesn't mean I didn't drink it_ , came the flippant answer and a touch of a smile appeared on Loimu's face.

She then opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling.

”I think I saw her yesterday. After... after the fight.”

There was a pause.

”I saw you too.”

There was just static silence from Kuura's end.

_In my human form?_ Came a soft question.

Loimu nodded and wrung the woollen blanket in her hands.

”She was standing there, laughing at me. Then she did the whole 'dark tendrils covering everything' trick of hers. Annoying bitch.”

_So it was her? Who summoned the Great Dragon?_

Loimu bit her lip. Kuura sounded so small and lost and it ached in her chest. She fell back on her pillow and caressed the carvings on the axe with the tip of her finger.

”I mean. I kind of forgot to ask.”

Kuura huffed.

_Yeah, you stabbed it first._

Loimu smiled. Then she sighed and curled her fingers around Kuura's handle.

”What we know for now is that the dragon had at least seen her, or knew where she was. What it said was clearly a warning. It could be that something else lured it here, but the witch followed it anyway.”

_So you don't think it was trying to get to us?_

”I feel like she's more afraid of us than we of her. Otherwise she would come at us directly. Not at the edge of dreams.”

The village was slowly starting to wake up outside.

”We should go,” Loimu said.

Kuura didn't answer.

  


The snow crunched under her feet as she sneaked in the shed where her sled and dogs were kept and quietly she strapped the dogs in. She shushed them as they boofed in excitement.

”Shut up, shut up, we have to be quiet or--”

”Leaving without goodbyes?”

Loimu startled and her breath left her in a rush. She then stretched a smile on her face and turned partially to face Veera, who was leaning on the shed doorway.

”Sorry, we just...”

”It's alright.” The morning sun was rising behind her, so Veera was just a shadow at the doorstep, until she gave way. ”Let me walk you to the gates. I know a quiet route.”

”There is another gate?” Loimu blurted out.

”There's always another gate,” Veera said.

  


The sight in front of them was reminiscent of last night, except in reverse – instead of diminishing into oranges and violets and the night sky blue clawing at the snowbanks with its last rays, the sun was slowly climbing up from behind the horizon and spilling over the treetops.

A quiet, if sleepy, guard let them through a smaller gate that was more like a discreet hole in a wall, alike to a secret door. The guard offered Loimu her quiet gratitude, to which Loimu just nodded awkwardly, and Veera told the guard not to wait for her, for she would come through the main gate.

The gate slammed shut behind them and it felt final, the thunk reverberating in Loimu's bones and echoing in the quiet morning. The fields in front of them seemed to stretch out endlessly and she looked at the snowridden sight, holding her breath at the beauty of it.

_It's starting to melt_ , Kuura whispered in her ear. _See? Sprouts of rye._

And indeed, it was like little cat whiskers peeking from underneath the snow, the shy green spikes pushing through the white mass.

”There is a shortcut to the main road if you go along that path,” Veera pointed out. Loimu followed where she was pointing and nodded.

”Thank you for sneaking us out,” she said then.

Veera smiled.

  


”There is a soul in that weapon, am I correct?”

Loimu froze.

Her breath fogged in the morning air.

”What?” she whipped her head around to look at the woman. She looked suddenly sharper and taller in the stark sunlight.

”A curse, right?” Veera smirked.

Loimu breathed heavily. She could feel her hackles rise, goosebumps across her skin as her heart began thumping loudly in her chest. Her fist clenched around the handle of her axe and she slipped Kuura from her belt to grip her properly.

The blade was glowing with Kuura's icy flowers.

”How interesting,” was all Veera had time to say before Loimu ran towards her with Kuura raised in attack.

Veera reached her arm towards Loimu and then raised her hand up, palm facing ground like she was pulling at the ground. The snow underneath Loimu's feet gave in and crumbled, and with a shout she fell forward on her knees. Veera mumbled a word and ice rose to bind her into her place.

”Now, now,” Veera said and straightened up, letting her hand fall. ”I am decades older than you, girl. I have more experience.” She laughed at Loimu's menacing growl. ”Like a beast! Don't be embarrassed. I'll let you go soon.”

”You know her?” Loimu spat out. She flexed her muscles, but to no avail. As powerful as she was, the ice was bound tightly against her skin and would've peeled it right off if she tried struggling out of it.

”We've met,” Veera's tone was mocking. Her eyes narrowed alike to a fox's, twinkling with mirth, seeming younger than her years. Her smile was teethy, and false. ”I try to avoid her as much as possible. You seem to have been less lucky.”

”Did you lure the dragon here?”

”No,” Veera shook her head. ”But _she_ did travel through these parts about a month ago.”

Loimu's stomach lurched.

_At least she's not following our tracks_.

_How happy I am to hear your voice_ , Loimu thought back. _It was quiet for a moment._

_I am indeed bound by ice now. It disoriented me._ Kuura sneered then. _I'm just glad I can't feel the cold._

”You were extremely swift with the dragon. I take it you didn't kill it?”

”No,” Loimu said. ”It would've been too much for the two of us.”

”Good. We need Great Dragons. They bring balance.”

”Except when they don't,” Loimu snarled. ”What is the point of this? You're not going to kill us, so why are you keeping us here?”

”I figured you would like to have some answers.”

Loimu raised her brows in surprise.

”So you know who lured the dragon here?”

Veera waved her hand in the air.

”No, I don't. But I hear news from elsewhere that this was not the only odd occurrence to happen. We’re living weird, shifting times,” she said. ”Something is happening. Dragons migrating backwards, fairies attacking humans. Witches crawling out to hunt people. Old folk.”

_Old folk?_ Kuura gasped. _As if vengeful witches weren’t enough._

”You should travel South. I've heard some of the folk are causing trouble there. You might find more information there.”

  


Veera gazed upon her and then her smile finally turned close to genuine.

”Poor girls. I hope you and your friend will be freed of the curse soon.”

”I am not cursed,” Loimu said hotly, snarling.

”Aren't you?” Veera chuckled, putting her hand to rest on her hip, her fingertips still dripping with water. ”You have learned the old words, right?”

”What about it?” Loimu frowned.

”Hm. How fascinating. I wonder who taught you” Veera huffed. ”However… I guess it's time to say goodbye. A piece of advice: don't go looking for the witch.. It seems like you two are in more trouble than you can imagine.”

With wave of her hand she turned towards the village and disappeared in a puff of snow.

  


With a heave Loimu crashed the ice binding her to the earth, its magic weakened with its master's disappearance.

”Damn it,” she hissed.

Kuura was quiet for a moment.

_You know what this means? What_ she _meant?_

”No,” Loimu said. She turned to look at the horizon where the sun crawled on the sky.

_But it's decided?_ Kuura sounded excited. The dogs whined behind them, impatient to get going.

Loimu grinned.

”We're going South.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I started this over a year ago. It took me a while but now it's ready! Thank you lots for my supportive friends, especially Adelaida, Carole, Nyx and MelpomeneSongs!
> 
> As some of you might notice, as this is slightly inspired by Finnish folklore, I decided to make the magical language Finnish as well. So, some translations:
> 
> _Tikari_ \- dagger  
>  _Mene_ \- Go!
> 
> Please leave a kudos and a comment!  
> twitter [@wildkitte](https://twitter.com/wildkitte)  
> tumblr [@loimuandkuura](https://loimuandkuura.tumblr.com/) and [@wildkittewrites](http://wildkittewrites.tumblr.com/)


End file.
